Pretty Face, Thick Waist (teaser)

Chapter 1 - Pretty face, thick waist (teaser)

The now-empty dish slid off her trembling belly and thumped on the mattress. She didn’t move. Normally she would. Normally, she’d walk it back into the kitchen proper. A quick rinse and dry, maybe a gentle scrub, and then back into the cupboard. Keeping things tidy was important, especially in one’s home.

Not possible now. No, she couldn’t even if she wanted to, which she most certainly did NOT. She felt weighed down, stuck, beached like one of the whales she saw on the television from time to time. Full. That wasn’t doing this feeling justice. She always supposed that when someone was “full” that was it. The meal was over. They’d reached their limit, but now she knew better. Learned the hard way. There were whole other realms beyond “full”.

That was just the start.

She felt like a bomb about to explode. A prized sow fattened for the slaughter and given no reprieve. Nor did she deserve one. She’d done it to herself, hadn’t she? Well, not technically, but she’d certainly allowed it. That counted for something, right?

She can’t see past the hill of her belly now. The normally small paunch had ballooned nearly three sizes larger over the course of the evening. Now it dominated her view. A steadily growing mountain stuffed with enough food to feed a family. God, had she really eaten all of it? An angry rumble pervaded the air, and she whimpers at the sharp discomfort.

“Everything ok in there?” The voice echoed from down the hall. Deep, almost melodic.

“Mph.. fuck. Yes!” Somehow, her voice sounded almost alien to her own ears. She trailed one plump hand delicately over the stretched skin of her stuffed tummy. There was more left. Oh, god… he wouldn’t be taking this long if there wasn’t more to bring. She briefly panicked, a rising anxiousness lodged itself deep inside her. A small ripple building to a roaring tidal wave. She couldn’t hold anymore. After the dinner he’d prepared paired with the plate of rich brownies… she glanced down at the streaked plate. How many had there been? Six? Eight? Did it really matter at this point? Her pink tongue danced over her plump lips and tasted the chocolate still lingering there.

“One second, darling! Cleaning the table and then I’ll bring your snack.” Upbeat. She imagined him humming to himself as he cleared her side of the table with all of its demolished plates.

No doubt he was enjoying himself. He always did when these nights rolled around. She’d never admit it to him, but so was she. It hadn’t always been that way. She’d grown to like the attention. Well, she’d grown, period. A far-cry now from her thinner years. A VERY far-cry. With a grunt, she attempts to wiggle her bloated form into a more comfortable spot on the bed. It’s difficult under the now vast expanse of her gorged gut. Her hefty tits aren’t helping either. God, she’d gotten big. Too big really, but saying no was hard. Even harder now.

It was all a blur, really. She remembered sitting down to eat tonight. Him bringing out plate after plate. A loaded smile on his masculine face. Coy. Teasing. She hadn’t minded. After all, she knew he looked forward to these “events” as he called them. Though they were becoming more common nowadays. Hadn’t they had one just a few weeks ago? Last week? Hard to remember with everything going on. And so she’d eaten.

And eaten…

And EATEN…

Until she felt the colossal weight of her stuffed gut resting on her plump thighs. Jutting outward, well past her swollen knockers, where it pressed aggressively into the table’s edge. Fuck, she was getting big. She wanted to blame him, point the finger and chastise for taking advantage of her. But truth was she was enjoying bringing his fantasy to life. His eyes never left her on these feeding days. He simply watched, attention unbroken save for the occasional dropped fork, second - sometimes third - helping, and bevy of busted buttons and seams which seemed to also be growing more and more common.

Tonight was a good example. She’d nearly been done with her second course and clearly hitting the wall of her stomach’s capacity. Woozy, and hard pressed to even take a deep breath, much less move. She’d stared down at the little left on her plate. Stared, wondering if she could possibly fit it in when, to her dismay, her skirt clasp snapped. A subtle ping ringing out even over the dull hum of the TV. It was sudden. Violent. Harsh, and yet the sudden release was exquisite. For him, it was probably a milestone, but for her, it was a stark reminder of just how far she’d fallen. Her lost sense of self-control. Angry at herself, but in the same breath, relishing the freedom and societal taboo of the entire gluttonous act. Her glorious paunch, heavy with dinner and all manners of treats, first bulged and then expanded forth as the fabric gave way before the taut flesh. How long had she had this skirt? It seemed like forever. She’d worn it on their first date, a practical memento of their relationship, and she’d popped it like a true fat girl. She was appalled, but there was no denying the heat between her legs and the rising pull of her libido.....

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